


Commanding Officer

by BrighteyedJill



Category: Heroes - Fandom, Supernatural
Genre: Army, Crossover, Dom/sub, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-08-19
Updated: 2009-08-19
Packaged: 2017-11-11 06:58:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/475824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrighteyedJill/pseuds/BrighteyedJill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nathan is desperately searching for something, and John has an idea of what it could be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Commanding Officer

**Author's Note:**

> Slightly AU (I had to tinker with timelines) in which John Winchester is a Marine serving on the same ship where Nathan Petrelli is a Navy aviator. Written for CEO [](http://a-cook1.livejournal.com/profile)[**a_cook1**](http://a-cook1.livejournal.com/)’s day of power at the [](http://heroes-exchange.livejournal.com/profile)[**heroes_exchange**](http://heroes-exchange.livejournal.com/) Company Picnic.

Nathan slugged back another shot of tequila and came up with a grin on his face. His opponent, a roughly build older Filipino man in civilian clothes, shook his head and poured another round.

 

Nathan was far past buzzed and on his way to flying, he knew, but he was also pretty sure that this chump would be going down any minute, leaving him with victory and enough money to bankroll the rest of his shore leave. Then he could get on to his plans for the evening’s more interesting activities .

 

Nathan threw a cocky grin at the man—Carlos, he’d introduced himself earlier in the night—and picked up the next shot. His coordination must have been further gone than he thought, because some of it sloshed over his face and spilled down onto the collar of his blue uniform. It was a good thing Nathan had chosen a bar further into the sprawling recesses of Manila, well away from where his shipmates would be partying tonight. They saw him as a classy, disciplined kind of guy. Besides, he was an officer, and they didn’t need to see him here getting shit-faced with the locals. Nor did they need to know what else he usually did on shore leave.

 

Carlos glared at him. “You spill more than you drink, pretty boy. You never going to win that way.”

 

“Tell y’what,” Nathan said, pointing his finger at the slightly blurry man. “We’ll call it a draw.” He reached out to grab the stack of bills he’d thrown down during the contest, but Carlos slapped his hand away.

 

“Not so fast. You cannot break the rules like this.” Carlos leaned forward, leering thoughtfully. “But I tell you what. I give you a chance to earn it back.”

 

“Earn it. How?” Nathan asked casually.

 

Carlos leaned even further across the table and lowered his voice so he could barely be heard about the music and the noise of the crowd. “On your knees.”

 

Yes. Nathan had read him right. He was an inconsistent judge of character at best, but he had developed a skill of ferreting out the kind of man who would make an offer like this. Nathan took a cursory glance around the bar to make sure there were no familiar faces, but if he was honest with himself, he knew he was too far gone to care. He nodded once. Carlos led him out to the alley.  
\---

 

The alley was a few degrees cooler than the sweltering heat of the bar. Carlos guided Nathan down the alley—his steps were clumsy—and dropped him to his knees next to a dumpster, just out of sight of the street. “Get to it,” he said. Nathan’s hair was too short to hold, so Carlos slid his hand down to grab Nathan by the back of the neck.

 

Nathan lurched forward obediently and fumbled at the clasp of the guy’s pants. This is what he had been itching for the past few weeks, the need that had simmered in his blood as he went about his duty. Nathan Petrelli was always in control—always—on duty or off. He was known for being steady at the controls of his plane, even under fire. He was cool and calculated in his interactions with even the most obnoxious of his superior officers. Even when he was on leave, Nathan couldn’t let his comrades see him like this. Let them think he’d snuck off to fuck some big-breasted prostitute; he’d weave a tale to tell them in the morning. Now, though, the feel this man’s sweaty hand pawing at the back of Nathan’s neck while his dick bobbed before Nathan’s face was well worth the risks he was running.

 

“Come on,” Carlos prompted. Nathan opened his mouth, and that was when things got a little hazy.

 

Carlos fell backward. Nathan heard the sound of a fist impacting flesh, and a startled shout. “Get the hell out of here, you low life.” Then a figure loomed over him, blocking out the glow of city lights. “What is this mess?”

 

The rough voice sounded vaguely familiar. Nathan put a hand to his head to try to stop it from spinning, and squinted up at the man whose face was in shadows. Churning in his gut warred with the spinning in his head when he recognized the cut of a Marine uniform. The man took a step forward. The shadows fell from his face, and Nathan recognized Sergeant John Winchester. Nathan felt for the wall behind him, suddenly keen on trying to _not_ looking falling-down drunk. Winchester wasn’t his superior officer, technically. His Marines operated alongside the seamen on Nathan’s boat, but all the same, Nathan had always thought Winchester to be a capable and fascinating man. There was no way in _hell_ Nathan had just let himself get caught on his knees in an alley behind a bar about to suck a stranger’s cock. No way. Hadn’t happened.

 

“Hey.” Winchester caught Nathan’s arm and hauled him the rest of the way up. “It’s John. You okay?”

 

John. Not Sergeant Winchester. That was a good sign, surely. “M fine,” Nathan muttered. He brushed off John’s grip and steadied himself against the wall.

 

“Obviously not,” John scoffed. “Looked to me like you were getting into trouble.”

 

“No,” Nathan said. “I had the situation under control.”

 

“That so?” When Nathan didn’t answer, John went on. “What the hell’s the matter with you?” he demanded.

 

Nathan’s face flushed furiously under John’s onslaught, but he refused to give ground. “I’m a grown man, _sir_. What I do with my own leave time is my business. What, are you following me?”

 

“You’re in uniform, asshole. You’re not gonna get on your knees in a filthy alley and suck some bastard’s dick. What were you thinking?” At Nathan’s silence, resigned realization swept over John’s face. “You’ve done this before, haven’t you.”

 

“So what if I have?” Nathan snapped before his alcohol-fogged brain could catch up with his mouth. “This doesn’t concern you.”

 

“Christ, Petrelli. You’re a smart kid. What if somebody had seen you? What if your Commander had seen you?”

 

“I was careful. I’m always careful.”

 

“ _I_ caught you, didn’t I?” John pointed out. “This is the kind of crap that can get you in serious trouble. We’re talking the lots of paperwork kind of trouble. I bet your rich mommy and daddy wouldn’t take too kindly to you coming home with a dishonorable discharge.”

 

“You going to report me?” Nathan drew himself up to his full height, which was, he realized belatedly, quite a bit less than John’s. “Go ahead. It’s my word against yours.”

 

“And the word of everyone else in that bar tonight watching you drink like a frat boy. They all saw you leave with that guy. Christ, you couldn’t have been more conspicuous.”

 

Stupid. How could Nathan have been so stupid? This wouldn’t have happened, of course, if he hadn’t been so blinded by this desperate need, the aching void inside of him that he could never quite fill. But Nathan couldn’t be strong all the time. He needed something—needed this—to take the pressure off. Even now, when he was backed into a corner between a brick wall and a dumpster with John Winchester staring him down, he had to fight. “I’ll try to keep my business out of your face from now on,” Nathan sneered.

 

“Petrelli.” John fixed him with a searching look, and then shook his head as if he’d come to some conclusion. “If you need something that badly, you just have to be smart about getting it.”

 

Hair prickled on the back of Nathan’s neck as he evaluated John’s words and the stern set of his face. “What are you trying to say?”

 

“I’m saying you need a sane way to scratch that itch you’re feeling.”

 

“Is that right?” Nathan narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “You an expert in that area?”

 

John crossed his arms over his chest. “What made you come all the way out here, to the ass end of town?”

 

“Wanted to get away from the rest of the crew.”

 

“Good first step. Then what’d you do?”

 

“Got drunk,” Nathan snapped.

 

“First mistake. Drunk means sloppy.” John clapped him on the shoulder, and Nathan’s resulting stumble illustrated the point. “You should know that.”

 

“It’s a good way to strike up a conversation,” said Nathan.

 

“If you already had an arrangement, you wouldn’t need to chat up strangers,” John said evenly.

 

“Maybe I like strangers.”

 

“No.” John’s smile was more knowing that Nathan liked. “You just like being out of control. That’s why it has to be a stranger. Because with everyone you know, you’re in control. The great Lieutenant Petrelli. Spotless record. Destined for great things.”

 

“What the hell do you know?” Nathan scowled, and tried to push past John.

 

John pushed him back to the wall with one hand. “I know you disappear the first night of every shore leave. I know all the guys respect you, but nobody could really say he knows you. I bet you start to feel restless after a few weeks underway, because there’s never a chance to take off your mask. I bet you like being down on your knees or up against a wall because it’s the only time that scheming mind of yours goes quiet. I bet right now you’re feeling a little desperate because you haven’t gotten your fix. I bet it scares you how much you need these little escapes.”

 

For a minute, Nathan’s mouth moved soundlessly, unable to form a retort. Eventually, he came up with, “You seem to have given this a lot of thought.”

 

John was dangerously close now. His thigh loomed between Nathan’s legs, and if Nathan canted his hips up just a little, he could get some friction against the hard-on that had been straining against the front of his uniform pants since Carlos had first made his offer.

 

“I’ve met guys like you,” John continued. “Maybe mommy held you too much as a baby or daddy never said he was proud of you, and you’ve been trying so hard your whole life to do everything perfectly that you just need somebody to shut you up.” He grabbed Nathan’s arms and pushed him harder into the wall. “Does that sound about right?”

 

Nathan let his hips jerk forward to rut against John’s leg. He should have been ashamed when a triumphant smile greeted him, but he couldn’t make himself feel anything other than relief at finally being in good hands. John let him rub off for a few seconds before gripping his shoulders and digging a thumb hard into the pressure point there. “Slow down, sailor. I don’t plan on fucking you in an alley.”

 

Nathan relaxed a fraction, and John’s grip slid to the back of his neck, a comforting weight. “Let’s go somewhere more private, and I’ll give you what you need.”

 

“Thanks,” Nathan said softly. “Sir.”


End file.
